


I Can Be Armando, Baby

by orphan_account



Category: due South
Genre: Community: ds_kinkmeme, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Humiliation, Leather Kink, M/M, Oral Sex, Prostitution, Undercover, footwear kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-01
Updated: 2012-02-01
Packaged: 2017-10-30 11:13:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/331148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For this prompt on the dS Kinkmeme:</p><p>"due South, F/V - dominant/submissive themes, rough sex - After Vecchio gets back from the Langoustine job, Fraser goads Vecchio into pushing him around."</p><p>I'd apologize for the cheesy title (which references a cheesy song), except that some of what follows is pretty cheesy porn dirty talk, so you might as well know what you're in for from the getgo.</p><p>Also, it's not so much "goading" as it is "perceived emotional blackmail."</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Can Be Armando, Baby

So Fraser and Kowalski had gone on their Quest, and hadn’t found the Hand of Franklin, or any other part of Franklin, but had the World’s Greatest Time.  And, this was a switch-up for the ages, Kowalski stayed in Canada, studying Canadian law enforcement and French, because Maggie MacKenzie and Kowalski were very much into each other.  Fraser moved back to Chicago because….well, Vecchio wasn’t sure what the reason for that was.  He figured that Fraser had become acclimated to city life, but city life in Canada wasn’t the same as city life in the US or something.  He tried to ask, a couple of times, but Fraser had brushed past it and Ray wasn’t inclined to push him on that.

 

A few months later, though, he tried again.  They’d just eaten Chinese and were walking back to Ray’s car.  “So, Benny, you never did tell me why moved back to Chicago.”

 

And Benny just stopped there in the street, turned toward Ray, looking very serious, and then leaned across the space between them, cautiously, carefully put his lips on Ray’s.  All too quickly, Fraser leaned back and said, “I came back because of you, Ray.  For you.”

 

 

 

There’d been a lot of women in Vegas, all arranged by Armando’s people.  It looked like Armando wanted hookers, but didn’t want to be seen wanting hookers, or something approaching that.  Ray knew that he and the crew would hit a lounge for drinks, some "classy" place with fountain with a fireplace in the middle of it, and sit on low little couches.  Women would wander through, and Ray-as-Armando would nod toward one he thought he liked the looks of, and one of the boys would go over and talk to her, and most of the time, she’d come back and sit next to Ray, looking up at him (even if she happened to be taller) and giggling and twirling her hair (even if it happened to be short).

And they’d go up to his suite, and the boys would sit outside and play poker, and inside the bedroom, Ray would have to figure out what to do with this gorgeous woman who was being paid to be with him, only neither one of them was supposed to admit that.  Ray thought about professionals he’d worked with in the past: suspects, confidential informants. 

“I’m one of those guys,” he’d tell the pro, who invariably had a name ending in “andi” or “andy.”  Brandi, Randi, Candy, Mandy, Sandi…he’d tell ‘em all the same thing.  “I really just want to talk.”  And they’d nod, and he’d produce a deck of cards, and they’d play cards and he’d tell them about his cousin Cindy who’d gone to computer school and met a nice guy.  And when they’d leave, they’d smudge their makeup, just a little, and after they’d opened the door, they’d call back, sincerely “Anytime, Mr. Langoustini, please ask for me _anytime_ ,” making the boys hoot and holler over how even the hookers loved the Bookman.  Ray was grateful for that extra touch they gave the performance.  Even Shandy, who was apparently named for a girlie English pub drink and, when it came to cards could barely muster a competitive game of go-fish, threw an extra wiggle in her walk when she sashayed out the door.

And he had a favorite, made sure he got to see her more than once, who was a bit of a minimalist, Andi.  She was in her late twenties and gorgeous, but also smart and kind of fun.  They played poker, and actually laughed quite a bit, and he asked for her several times.  One night, as she was leaving, he gave her the standard line, threatening her with harm if she told anyone what they did and she looked at him consideringly and said, “You know, Armando, I just don’t feel that threatened.”

And Ray nearly had a heart attack, he was getting careless; rough with panic, he was on her side of the table before she could blink, behind her, twisting her arm up sharply behind her back and whispering in her ear, “You should,” then letting her go and slapping her ass, hard, and shoving her toward the door so hard she nearly fell over.

He never asked for Andi again.

 

 

These were not the stories he wants to tell Benny.  It isn’t like Benny had romantic notions about prostitution; it was more like Benny has romantic notions about Ray.  Or has some kind of weird twisted fantasy where being Ray-as-Armando had a free pass, had been able to use professionals to fulfill every bizarre fantasy he’d ever had.

Ray doesn’t want to tell Benny _any_ Armando stories.  Doesn’t want to remember how lonely he was, how he was terrified every minute of every goddamned day: terrified he’d be found out, terrified he’d have to really have someone hurt.

But Benny came back to Chicago for him, waited a year before making his move, patiently waiting so he wouldn’t catch Ray on the Stella rebound.  Benny took the risk and laid it out on the line, and things have been really good ever since.  So if Benny just wants this one thing, this one fantasy where Ray has to be Armando again, Ray kind of owes him.

So he tells Fraser the basic setup of how things had worked in Vegas (some day, he may tell him how those nights ended: cards and subtle suggestions for alternate career paths).  Fraser nods and suggests a quiet bar they can go to so that Ray can pick him up like a whore who’s pretending she’s maintaining her amateur status.  Well, Benny phrases it a little bit differently from that, but that’s essentially what he wants.  Ray, _Armando_ , is supposed to pick up Ben and take him back to his place (Benny’s place, really, they aren’t quite to the moving-in-together stage, and the Vecchio manse is not exactly conducive to any kind of sexual activity, at least not as far as Ray’s concerned).

Take him back to his place and treat Benny like he’s getting paid for it.

Ray’s biggest problem with all of this is not that Benny has the hots for Armando, although that is pretty disturbing in itself.  It’s that Ray himself kinda has the hots for treating Benny like a cheap pick-up.  And not the way he really treated his Vegas girls. 

So when the pick-up has been accomplished and they’re back at Benny’s place, Ray wearing an Armando suit, Benny, Jesus Christ, actually _flutters his eyelashes_ and looks up at Ray and submissively murmurs, “How do you like it, Boss?”   Ray’s thought about this enough that he’s not surprised by the flash of pure lust he feels, although it does disturb him.

“How about you get on your knees, sweetheart?”  Ray’s Armando voice is quite a bit colder than his real voice, and it makes Benny close his eyes and flush.  In an entirely good way.

But Benny’s not doing what he’s been told to do, and that would never fly in the Bookman’s world.  “Tonight, sweetheart,” Ray orders, getting a little harsher.

Benny gets on his knees, then looks up at Ray expectantly.  “Jesus, show a little initiative there, would you?  Or do I have to tell you everything?  Get my dick out, just my dick, and start sucking.”

Benny does that right away, and it’s good, so good, Ray was already getting hard just from being Armando (and that says so many things about himself he doesn’t really want to think about right now or, you know, _ever_ ).  He puts his hands on Benny’s head, guiding him deeper and faster than they usually go.

“Oh, that’s nice, sweetheart, that’s real nice.  Reach in with your hand and give my balls a little action, hmmm?”  Benny does.  Ray would be perfectly happy with this and only this, but Benny probably wants more.  Armando certainly does.

“Sweetheart, you were born for this.  You hard for me?  Does taking care of me do that for you?”

Benny hums affirmatively around Ray’s cock. 

“Yeah, I’ll bet it does, such a slut, such a gorgeous slut for me.  And it is just for me, isn’t it?”

Again with the humming.  No way is Ray going to be able to hold out for as long as he wants to; he wants Benny to keep this up until his throat is sore and his jaw is locked open.

“Yeah, you just want to do this for me, be my slut,” and wow, does Benny ever like being called a slut if the moaning is anything to go on.

“And you do it so nice, you’re being such a good slut for me, just a little more, just give me a little more,” Ray says, pushing Benny down further.  The little humming moans are pretty much nonstop, and Jesus, Benny’s actually managing to rub himself against Ray’s shin even while keeping his main focus on Ray’s cock.

“Oh, yeah, you are a good slut,” Ray says, and really he’d think he’d need better dialogue than this, but it’s not just working for Benny, it’s working for _Ray_ , it’s coming from a place of deep, disturbing sincerity.

“Wanna keep you on your knees, all night, all the time, wanna do that, bet you want it to, but, fuck, sweetheart, you’re too good at this.”  Ray pushes himself into Benny’s mouth faster and harder.

“Fuck, fuck, oh fuck, you slut, that’s it, like that, oh goddamn you, you fucking slut, you whore, you’re…I’m gonna…fuck, oh, fuck you,” and Ray’s gone over the edge, past worry, past shame, into a world that’s nothing but bright pleasure pouring out of him and into Benny.

Ray tips his head back, loosening his grip, pulling Benny off before the hypersensitivity gets him.

“Boss,” Benny gasps, “I need, oh, please, will you let me…?”

“Sure, sweetheart,” Ray says, feeling generous; Benny sure deserves a good one for himself after that.  Benny pushes his own pants down to free himself, no surprise there.

But next…Benny’s actually scrunching himself down further, putting his leaking cock against Ray’s, _Armando’s_ left Bruno Magli, rubbing himself off on the leather and gasping.

“Jesus,” Ray exclaims, and he’s not sure where this is coming from, if this him being Armando for Benny, or if this is just who he’s always been, “you really are a fucking slut for it, aren’t you?”  No matter what part of him his saying it, though, the harsh words are really admiration, not condemnation.  Benny certainly seems to interpret them as a compliment; he’s coming all over the shoe and the floor and saying, over and over again, “Thank you, Boss, oh, thank you _so much_.”

And whatever part of Ray this is, whatever part of Benny this is, whatever part of the two of them together this is, Ray figures it’s all gonna be all right.

 


End file.
